


Straight To You

by LucysPromDress



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Background Character Death, Dean is 28 and Castiel is 35, Domestic Violence, Grammarly Checked, M/M, Murder, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex, Read at Your Own Risk, Sam is 24 and Gabriel is 38, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Stalking, Tags May Change, Theft, Too Many Tags Spoil, Unsafe Sex, Watch For Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-02-10 19:40:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18667060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucysPromDress/pseuds/LucysPromDress
Summary: "The sounds of fear weren’t there, the sounds of pain, the whimpers, the hiding behind his long hair — all the things Sam would do to placate Nick in the past — none of it was there and it was clearly pissing him off. Nick was a bruiser and he got off on the pain he inflicted on Sam..."Twenty-four-year-old Sam Winchester finally decides he's had enough emotional and physical abuse from his older boyfriend Nick and leaves him, taking with him a little... compensation for all the trouble and heartache Nick has put Sam through for years.After letting closed eyes and a map of the United States decide his fate, Sam ends up in a place he never dreamed he'd go, living a life he never thought he would.But when the life and ex he tried to leave behind comes back to haunt him, will his new life last? Or will he end up packing his bags and running away again?Not total fluff, slowburn, twist in the middle-ish. Heed the tags for triggers! I also want to point out that this is a Sabriel and Destiel fic, neither ship gets backgrounded. BUT this is a fic centered around Sam.***On Hiatus!***





	1. Chapter 1

_I think I've finally had enough_  
_I think I maybe think too much_  
_I think this might be it for us_  
_Blow me one last kiss_

_Pink- Blow Me (One Last Kiss)_

 

The day was hopelessly beautiful; a slight autumn chill in the air, orange and brown leaves dotting the trees, littered on the ground. Jack-O-Lantern’s grinning their humorless grin from porches that housed plastic black cats and cardboard cutouts of witches riding on broomsticks. Fall was clearly in bloom in the small New England town, and the most widely celebrated fall holiday, Halloween, was right around the corner.    
  
It was just one of those days, classically beautiful, the type of day where nothing seemed like it could or should go wrong. Sam wouldn’t have been shocked to look up and see a rainbow high in the clear blue sky.  It was a great day to leave the snares of an abusive boyfriend once and for all. Change your name, leave everything and everyone you know behind — with one notable exception, and start all over.  
  
Nothing should go wrong, not today, not on this kind of day, but with luck and karma like Sam always seemed to have, looks were often very deceiving.  
  
 Maybe the too familiar feeling of dread that had settled in his stomach when he had spotted Nick’s car in the driveway would be for nothing. Maybe, just maybe everything would be all right. Maybe Nick hadn’t found out anything and he was just home early for the day because he —  
  
_No_.  
  
Deluding himself would do no good, not when he had to face the reality of the situation in two minutes. Nick knew. He had to know. He’d probably called Sam’s work or he had been spying on him and biding his time until today. His boyfriend was never home this early, not for lunch, not for an afternoon quickie. Never. They had been together three years and lived with each other for two of them, he knew Nick’s behaviors like the back of his hand.  
  
This wasn’t Nick surprising him by taking an afternoon off, this was a scare tactic, a way to make him nervous and full of dread. Nick loved to employ those; he knew as soon as Sam turned on to their street that he would see his car in the driveway and panic on some level would set in, and the fucker was right. He was probably watching from a window to gauge Sam’s reaction.  
  
None of this was supposed to happen. He’d been so careful, acted so normal. Weeks were spent planning this, every single part of this down to the smallest detail; phone calls had been made on a burner phone that he kept at work, there was no paper trail at all, each and every check he’d earned had been deposited into his account as usual. He volunteered at the animal shelter twice a week. He had given Nick no reason at all to be suspicious  
  
Every part of this had been thought out. He had done it like this, slowly and with great care so as to not look suspicious or give Nick any reason to suspect anything. Today was his last day at work, he had already picked up his last check and deposited it into his bank account, nothing suspicious. Dean was meeting him this evening at a rest area they had both decided on weeks ago. He was going to leave his car there and just — vanish. Change his name and move far, far away.  
  
Nick wasn’t supposed to be home this early. Not today.  
  
Against the pleas of the little voice that begged him to just make the loop of the cul-de-sac and drive on, Sam decided to go in anyway.  
  
“Babe,” he called out as he entered the front door, dropping his keys on the table in the foyer as he always did. Nothing strange. Nothing out of the ordinary. He looked around and saw no sign of Nick or any movement at all, and Nick didn’t call back or greet him in any way.  
  
_Fuck_.  
  
There was supposedly absolutely no reason for him to creep around like there was something wrong, because as far as he knew everything was normal. Nick was just home early. That’s all. So Sam entered the living room, shrugging out of his olive colored jacket and dropping it on the sofa. A sudden movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention and he turned his head toward it. A sharp, sudden blow to the back of his head made him dizzy, and then his vision went black.  
  
                                                                                      

* * *

  
  
Sam blinked in confusion and surprise against the bright light shining almost directly in front of his face. He moved to shield his eyes, instinctual he tried to lift his hand but he found that he couldn’t, something was holding his hand down. The other one, too. He couldn’t move his legs, either. He’d been caught. Nick knew. Nick had to have done this. This couldn’t be happening.  
  
God, he was stupid for going in.  
  
“Help!” Sam called out, as he tugged and struggled furiously against what he now saw to be silver duct tape that bound him securely to one of Nick’s office chairs.  
  
The sun that had been high in the sky when he’d arrived at home around two was now gone, the room he was in, Nick’s office, was completely in shadows, dark, except for the square lamp that sat on Nick’s desk which as usual, was lit and without a shade. There wasn’t anyone in here either from what Sam could see. There was the large oak desk in front of him and the wall of books to his right, but there was no sign of life in the room, he was alone.  
  
“Help!” A bit louder than the first time. “Nick!”  
  
Or he thought he was alone. Sam opened his mouth to yell again but instead of the ear-splitting silence he’d gotten before, he heard the sound of bones popping behind him, the soft rustle of denim, the sound of someone rising from the couch that sat behind him. Sam could only turn his head so far, but within seconds the second person in the room was revealed.  
  
“Nick, thank God,” Sam managed with as much distress as he felt. Inwardly he was cringing at the sight of his lover because he knew this meant he had been right all along. “Babe, hurry, untie me. Somebody hit me and — I think I’m bleeding. I feel wet on my neck.”  
  
“You’re fine, Sam,” Nick rounded him and sat down on the corner of his desk, looking calm and directly at Sam. “Just a — uh, head wound to knock you out and a few hits of chloroform to keep you that way.”  
  
“What? Chloroform? You knocked me out?” Sam sounded confused as Nick turned and reached for something on his desk. “Why would you —”  
  
“Shh,” Nick sounded.  
  
Giving him a look of confusion, Sam stopped speaking when Nick picked up a remote control and pressed a button. The screen of the monitor on the wall turned on and within seconds a silent, black and white image of the inside of their closet that housed Nick’s safe — which contained his valuables, cash, documents, a gun — appeared. Sam closed his eyes and looked away, but seeing this Nick roughly grabbed his chin between his thumb and forefingers and turned his head back.  
  
“Hey, hey, no. Look at this, watch it, Sam. ”  
  
“Look, I —, I can explain this.”  
  
With an open hand, Nick smacked Sam hard across the face, busting his bottom lip open, the blood welled quickly to the surface and dribbled down Sam’s chin. That was the first time that Nick had ever hit him in the face where a mark would appear.  
  
“Shut up and watch, and then you can talk.”  
  
When Sam’s eyes looked back at the screen he saw himself standing in front of the now opened safe taking out the cash in it and replacing it with stacks of bound together paper. It was obvious that he remembered that day. His hands balled into fists as he tugged at the tape that held him to try and get something loose because it was clear that this was not going to go well for him. Sam had lived in this house with Nick for years now and had never, ever thought there was a camera there. Every other one he knew about, but not this one.  
  
It kind of hurt that Nick didn’t trust him, even though he’d been right not to.  
  
The screen went black and Nick calmly replaced the remote on his desk and scooted a chair to sit in front of Sam. It was bad when Nick was calm. It was horrible when Nick was calm on the outside; easy nose breathing, fingers steepled in front of him, the rational tone Nick took. Sam was all too familiar with this, the calm before the storm. The surface waters weren’t rough, but just below an epic whirlpool that could sink a ship was spinning.  
  
 Nick wiped the blood from Sam’s lips with the backs of his fingers and then wiped the blood on the legs of his jeans. He regarded Sam closely, seemingly proud of the work he had done on his lips. Just a small slap, but so much force behind it brought so much blood. That, Sam was familiar with too.  
  
  It seemed like hours had passed them by in silence before Nick finally spoke. “So, tell me, Sam. I saw what you were doing in my safe, I looked after I saw the tape and I was hoping that maybe you were playing some kind of weird prank on me or there would be a gun held to your head in one of the other tapes. But nope. Just you. All of the money that was in there is gone. The gun, too,”  
  
Nick stood and scratched over the back of his head as he continued. “Now, I searched everywhere in the house and in your car while you were — out, but I didn’t find even a trace of the cash or anything new that you might’ve bought. But I did find your bags of clothes and shoes in that false bottom in your trunk. Were you planning to leave me? Run off and take my money with you?”  
  
Sam was quiet, chin raised and looking at Nick defiantly. He wasn’t going to answer because there was no answer that he could give that would satisfy Nick or that would make any of this go away. He was caught, as careful as he had been, he was caught. All there was left to do was to take the punishment that was coming to him and start planning this all over again.  
  
Or maybe Nick would finally kill him. _Try_ to kill him, anyway. Docile Sam, who on some freakishly weird level liked the abuse, thought he deserved it, wasn’t going to let his boyfriend go that far. He had unconsciously lulled Nick into a false sense of security, let him believe that he was the one with all the power, but if he tried anything beyond his usual — Sam wasn’t going to just sit back and take it like a wilting flower tonight.  
  
His silence earned him another open palm to the face. Sam’s head snapped back quickly and he shook his hair from his eyes. Bleeding lips smirked at Nick, silently daring him to do it again. Another slap and Sam was spitting blood and still grinning with bloody teeth. He looked evil sitting there smiling at Nick, but he was just done with this shit. From the fucked up childhood he had led, Sam knew almost exactly how much pain his body could take, and this? Was barely a warm-up.  
  
The sounds of fear weren’t there, the sounds of pain, the whimpers, the hiding behind his long hair — all the things Sam would do to placate Nick in the past — none of it was there and it was clearly pissing him off. His fist closed and his slaps turned to punches, and every single time Sam shook his head and came back for more.  
  
“Is that all you’ve got for me, Nick?” Sam was almost laughing at him. It was crazy; Nick was a bruiser and he got off on the pain he inflicted on Sam — Sam could remember many, many angry sex sessions Nick had initiated while he was still bleeding or hadn’t gone to the emergency room yet to have whatever was broken set — but, there was a method to his madness.  If he got Nick riled enough, A) there might be sex, he would have to unbind Sam to at least reposition him for that or B) he’d start hitting him hard enough that the chair would topple on its own and, with luck, would break the wooden chairs arms or back enough to help Sam to free himself and put him on even footing with Nick.  
  
And he was anxious for that to happen.  
  
Nick continued to hit Sam, closed fist, and Sam kept coming back taunting him for more. But neither of the two options that Sam had counted on were happening. Nick was just pissed, really pissed, and the freaking antique chair was sturdier than he had ever believed. Hit after hit, Sam had kept his head turned now and Nick’s fists had propelled left to right and finally, he gave as his head fell limp in the center of his chest. Nick was breathless and cursing, Sam was no longer laughing and barely holding on to consciousness.  
  
 Everything Nick was saying to him seemed like he was yelling at him from underwater, and he swore he felt a few hits to his torso. This was serious, this was bad. He wasn’t going to make it out of here. Had he overestimated himself or underestimated Nick? Today had gone so wrong, so bad. Nothing had gone the way he had planned.  
  
A gun cocked. To Sam, it sounded like it was miles away and under layers of wet concrete, but he knew it was close, likely right in his face. He tried to look up, to meet his death head on, but his shoulders slumped and held him in place. He could feel the thick stream of bloody saliva that dangled from his lips and he braced himself for the killing shot.  
  
“Hit him again, you son of a bitch, and I’ll splatter your brains all over the wall.”  
  
Was that...  
  
“Dean!”  
  
The word was muffled and yelled through the cotton of his injured mouth, but Dean had gotten it. The gun he held was against the back of Nick’s head, who held his bloody hands in the air.  
  
“I’m here, Sammy, you’re safe now.”  
  
If he could have, Sam would have cried. The relief he felt at the sound of his big brother's voice was clearly evident in the breathy sigh he gave. The last thing he remembered after that was hearing the butt of the gun hit something, and Nick crumbling to the floor in front of him.  
  
                                                                                      

* * *

  
  
Sam wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but when he was aware again, he realized that he was untied and seated on the couch and a figure that he could make out was slumped forward and tied to the chair he had been in.  
  
“Glad you could join us,” Dean said. Sam could feel soft fingers touching over the wounds on his face and gingerly touching his left side. “I think a rib or two might be broken. We need to get you to the ER and —”  
  
“Nuh uh,” Sam protested weakly, lifting his hand and shaking it and finally resting it affectionately on Dean’s face. “Let’s just go. Get a few states away from here.”  
  
“Yeah, I figured you’d say that,” Dean produced a few pills and a bottle of water for Sam, who didn’t even ask what they were but slipped them past his swollen lips and took them.  
  
The next thing Sam knew, he was being led outside, arm slung over his brother, as they walked slowly — very slowly — to Dean’s car, which was clearly packed in the back with Sam’s things that he would have left behind had he left as planned. Dean opened the passenger door and guided his brother inside and almost closed the door.  
  
“Backseat of my car,” Sam slurred, stopping the door with his foot. “Cut it open. A box. Cut the right seat open.”


	2. Chapter 2

_Now I've reached the living end, pointing fingers to defend_   
_And I'm guilty, and I'm guilty, and I'm guilty, and I'm guilty_   
_And you're guilty too_

For a while Dean sat looking out of the dusty hotel window at the parking lot, sipping on a now lukewarm beer that had been in the six-pack he’d bought after he was sure that Sam was sleeping again. The painkillers he had been giving to Sam were from his own prescription, the ones he took when his bum knee was acting up, so he knew how well they worked and that Sam should sleep through some of the pain.  
  
Dean glanced back at the sleeping form laying on his back on the queen bed closest to the wall. He was told about a week ago that Sam and Nick argued a lot, that their relationship had seemed to go from one that sounded domesticated and loving to one that had become so controlling that Sam had had no friends, no social life to speak of, nothing of his own. He even had to buy a burner phone and call him while he was at work.  
  
Apparently, this had been going on for a while, maybe even since the start, and Sam had never told him a thing. Not until last week. The call had come in the middle of the day, Sam’s area code but not his normal number, and Dean had answered right away, thinking the worst. He was relieved to hear Sam’s voice on the other end of the line, but his relief was short lived when he heard what his little brother had to say. The entire story spilled out. Or what he had thought was the whole story at the time. There were pieces missing though, none of this made sense to him.  
  
" _I’ll kill him. I’m on my way there right fucking now.”_  
  
_“Dean, no, just calm down.” Sam had paused and a deep sigh filled the silence. “I want to leave. I’m going to leave, but I can’t do it by myself. Just say you’ll help me.”_  
  
Of course, it was stupid that Sam felt like he needed to ask. Before Sam had decided to leave Texas for a school up north, Dean had always been there for him.  Before their dad died and after. Always. Sam needed something for school? Dean made sure he had it. A car? It was a junker and Dean had to get under the hood several hundred times, but Sam had one. Clothes? Food? A roof over his head? Fees for college applications to the ten or twenty whatever schools Sam had applied to? Dean got the money. Sam had. Maybe not always the best, or even second best sometimes, but baby brother was never without.  
  
Hell, Dean had even been Sam’s emotional and financial support when he had gone off to school until he had met Nick. Dean was hesitant about that at first because wasn’t that illegal or something? Nick was a professor there, had been forever apparently, and was the head of the Germanic languages department or some shit. Sam was barely in his second year at the same university, but he assured Dean that it was perfectly fine. He had his next four years planned, all the classes he would need to take to get into law school, and none of them included German. And besides, they weren’t really serious, it was mostly a sex thing with no strings or promises and it wasn’t anything to worry about.  
  
And then Sam had moved in with him. So much for the ‘no strings, not serious’ thing.  
  
When he was in high school at age sixteen Sam’s very first sexual relationship had been with the thirty-two-year-old male nurse that lived in the apartment upstairs. A few months later the next a was a forty year old, very married to a woman, veterinarian that Sam had met after he’d hit a dog near their house. And on and on.  
  
Dean had known for a few years that Sam was gay, he had no sexual interest in women whatsoever and had made that abundantly clear, but it wasn’t until Sam had graduated that he had told Dean about these men, these _older_ men, that had clearly taken advantage of a very young and very impressionable Sam. The words ‘statutory’ and ‘pedophile’ came up, and the threat of ripping lungs out was also made. Dean was pissed, but Sam persuaded Dean not to do anything then. It was over, he’d said. He wasn’t damaged by any of it, and he, from what he had intimated, had been the one to pursue the relationships and not the other way around.  
  
When Sam was safely away from Austin, the names that Dean could figure out were treated to a night out courtesy of his fists. Maybe Sam wouldn’t participate in any legal action, but he couldn’t stifle Dean’s temper forever.  
  
Sam kept going to school, making the grades and keeping his scholarship — more grounded than Dean had been while he was attending a culinary school at the local community college — and he had thought maybe Nick was a better influence on his brother than he had originally thought so he gave it a chance, even met Nick that one Christmas Dean had spent in Connecticut visiting Sam. Nothing had seemed weird. Everything felt right. Nick was a little — weird, but he seemed as taken with Sam as Sam had been with him. He remembered actually feeling happy that Sam had found someone that could and would take care of him the way Dean had.  
  
The last time that Dean had seen his brother was about two years ago, at his college graduation. That was okay though, he had thought, because Sam was busy in law school. Getting that law degree. Making something of himself. He had never guessed that Sam hadn’t even started law school, that he’d never even gone back to school after he’d graduated. He didn’t know that Sam was being abused, physically and emotionally.  
  
What kind of fucking brother was he? Sam was a kid, and he’d trusted Nick with him. Thought he’d make him happy and keep him healthy. If he hadn’t shown up last night when he did, if he hadn’t thought to bring his gun…  
  
His thrown beer bottle exploded against the wall and slid to the floor, leaving in its’ wake a splash of foam and a hole from the force at which the bottle had hit. Cheap ass walls. He was surprised it hadn’t gone through.  
  
Dean glanced over at the bed as Sam stirred and groaned in his sleep, but fortunately, he didn’t wake up. Hopefully, he would sleep for the rest of the night and by the morning his pain would be a little less. Part of him wished that Sam would just sleep for a week and wake up with no pain and fading bruises, but even then the damage done to his body was going to be nothing compared to what this was going to do to him emotionally.  
  
Right now, sleep was the best thing for him, and for Dean.

* * *

  
  
Whatever Dean had given him for his pain knocked Sam out before his brother had even come back to the car and apparently he had been asleep for a really long time. According to the phone on the table between them, it was almost evening wherever he was, and he was tucked snugly into a motel bed that lay opposite of the one a snoring Dean lay on his back in.  
  
The pounding in his head screamed ‘hangover!’, and for a few minutes, he just lay still with his eyes closed to make the room unblur and stop spinning and fell back asleep in the process.  
  
One minute he was asleep, the next Sam had bolted upright, crying out in sudden pain as his breath was nearly stolen from him.  
  
“Sam? Sammy?” Dean shouted as he quickly moved to sit up, gun cocked and in his hands. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Sam looked at and tried to focus on Dean, squinting through the eye that was still blurred with sleep and trying to open the other one which felt heavy and sealed almost completely shut. What the fuck had happened to him?  
  
Wincing as he tried to move more carefully this time, things hurt and everything that had happened to Sam the day before came back in a flood of emotion and all at once. It had all felt like a dream to him, a very real and vivid dream, but he had the aches and pains, bruises and cuts to prove it was all too real.  
  
It wasn’t alcohol and a bender with Dean that had made him feel this way, it was a man’s fists. A man that he had finally left for good.  
  
Holy shit, that happened.  
  
Was he really out? He had made it out?  
  
“Dude, I’m good, calm down,” he tried to reassure his brother as Dean clicked on the lamp on the table between them.  
  
Dean was on his feet, with a thumb tilting Sam’s chin up to face him gently. His eyes were full of anger as he looked Sam over. “I’m driving back to Connecticut and kicking his ass.”  
  
“That bad?” Sam snorted and tried to move away from Dean to find a mirror. Slowly. Fuck he hurt.  
  
Dean grabbed Sam carefully under his arms and steadied him, and used another to help him get his balance back as he guided him over to the mirror in the tiny bathroom.  
  
Sam’s expression was unreadable, mostly because Dean couldn’t see it, but he could hear his brother gasp at the sight of his face. One eye was swollen nearly shut and the other had bruises around it but looked considerably better than the other one did. The rest of his face was just a mass of bruises and cuts, a gash over his eye that seemed to be in the shape of the ring Nick wore on his right ring finger, and a good deal of swelling to his forehead and cheeks. He checked for missing teeth and found none, but his bottom lip and tongue were both abused to the point that things surviving around them was nothing short of a miracle.  
  
“I checked, nothing was broken so I doctored you up the best I could. I was pretty sure you wouldn’t want to go to a hospital, but even if I had brought you to one they wouldn’t have done any more for you than I did.”  
  
As Dean spoke to him, Sam was gingerly lifting his shirt to examine his torso. He wasn’t surprised to find that his stomach and abdomen were riddled with bruises so dark they looked black, but he was surprised to see that everything was on the right side. It seemed almost like Nick was just gearing up, preparing to do more and worse to him when Dean showed up.  
  
Thank fuck Dean showed up.  
  
“Yeah, no, no hospital. I’m sure when he wakes up — woke up, he’d start with those,” Sam pulled his shirt down and sat on the closed toilet bowl lid. “I hope we got really far away, at least far away enough to get a head start.”  
  
“We’re uh in… one of the Carolina’s. North. I saw the state line a couple of hours before I stopped here to get some sleep. Cash and an alias, like we planned.”  
  
Sam nodded, that was a few states away and he knew that Nick wouldn’t be going to the police. He had never been a fan of the cops, and the money he had was earned through illegal means and that was why Sam had felt fairly comfortable taking the huge risk that he did. By his silence, it was obvious that Dean wanted to say something else or ask him something, but he was glad he didn’t. Right now he didn’t really want to think about any of it. Oh, wait.  
  
“Last night — did I ask you to get a box out of my car?”  
  
Without a single word in response, Dean left the bathroom and Sam could hear a bag unzip and his brother padding back to the small bathroom. He slid a barely sealed white donut box onto the counter in front of Sam. He looked at the box for a minute, relief and happiness flooding through him as he skimmed his nail across the fold to break three pieces of clear tape that kept the lid closed.  
  
Dean’s eyes were glued to Sam’s hands as he began to remove the contents of the box and place them on the counter before him. Five or six old pictures of Sam and Dean as children, a few postcards their mother had sent Sam before she had died, a medium sized manila envelope, a gun — which gave Dean pause, but he kept his mouth shut — and at the very bottom of the box, money, vacuum sealed in clear plastic wrap, money. It was ten, roughly two-inch stacks of cash, all hundred dollar bills.  
  
“Sammy?”  
  
“Five hundred thousand dollars.”  
  
Sam barely looked up at Dean’s gasp but stared at the stacks instead and he piled three of them and tossed them at Dean. “That’s yours. For this. For — everything, I guess.”  
  
Dean turned the clear plastic over in his fingers and held it all back to Sam, who didn’t take it and instead started replacing the items in the box.  
  
“Take it, Dean,” Sam pulled the tape back down and started to rise from his seat and shoved the money back at Dean. “It was Nick’s, and trust me, I earned it.”  
  
 “Yeah, Sam, you have to talk to me about that. I don’t need the details, I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it yet, but I need you to tell me something.”  
  
“I told you something when I called you.”  
  
Sam was holding his stomach gingerly as he moved slowly back to his bed, with Dean right on his ass ready to help him whenever he needed it. But he didn’t. He sat back on the edge of the bed and lifted his shirt up over his stomach. For the first time, he could really see the extent of the damage Nick had done to his body and how bruised he was, front and side, and he looked disgusted. Dean had already seen everything, so for once he managed to keep himself in check.  
  
“Why’d you stay, Sam? I don’t get it. I mean,” Dean stepped away, running his hand through his hair and stopping in front of Sam. “I know you can fight, Dad taught us all about that. And I know you’re pretty smart, at least smart enough to walk away from a situation when it starts to go bad. Was it the money, Sammy? Because I’ll be honest with you…”  
  
The rest of Dean’s words were drowned out under his own thoughts. Telling him everything might be a good idea, it was Dean, after all, the person that he knew he could trust and count on above anyone else. But then keeping this to himself would keep his brother out of trouble — plausible deniability — and Dean’s temper was legendary and might get him angry at him as much as he was at Nick.  
  
It wasn’t fair not to tell Dean after involving him this much. He could always hope for sympathy.  
  
“Alright,” Sam went to rub his forehead but stopped himself before his fingers could touch his face and put his hands down in his lap. He also knew it was pointless to ask Dean to sit down, so he didn’t. “I’ll tell you everything, but you have to hear me out and you have control yourself. Or I’m not telling you anything.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes and Sam took that as confirmation — enough confirmation for him to start this.  
  
“You know how it started. We met at a poetry reading on campus and had coffee after. It was — kind of romantic. I could tell right away that he was into me by the way he was acting, but he was trying not to flirt because of the whole professor thing. But after some reassurance and a hot freaking kiss, he threw caution to the wind and we started dating.”  
  
“I know all that, Sam,” Dean sighed. “The whirlwind romance and moving in together after a couple of years and blah blah blah. I want to hear the parts I don’t know.”  
  
“Okay, well, the first time he hit me was about two years ago. Before that, it was just arguing, loud fights, insane make-up sex. But he actually hit me — actually punched me in the jaw, about a week before my graduation. I was talking about going to another law school because I was accepted to quite a few. Nick talked me out of applying for scholarships because he said he’d pay, and he was pretty insistent about that. So I gave in. I let him have that one because I knew that if I was accepted to Stanford’s law school I was going to California and if we had to have a long distance relationship he’d feel — forgotten.”  
  
“And I was accepted. I was accepted to every school I applied to. The talk about Stanford would have to come sooner rather than later, so the weekend after I got my letters, I made everything special. Catered a seafood dinner, got his favorite wine. And during dessert, I laid it out to him. Everything — it turned into this big fight, more heated than any other argument we’ve ever had before. I didn’t want to do it, I decided I’d take a walk, let him cool off some, and talk about it again later. But that’s not how it worked. It felt like Dad had stepped into the room. After a while I kinda felt like I deserved it.”  
  
Sam didn’t need to describe what happened to Dean. He was all too familiar with the way John had handled them when he was alive. Back then when they were kids Sam wouldn’t have called it abuse. The hits and the strap, and then the punches and kicks had been discipline. Because they had been bad. John had been trying to make them better men, get them in line. A long time had passed after their dad had died before either boy called the discipline they had endured since they had started walking what it was: child abuse.  
  
A messed up part of Sam had missed the treatment when he didn’t get it anymore, and when Nick had started it, when he started showing his true colors by controlling and abusing Sam, for the longest time Sam had felt like he was coming home. This was what he knew, this is how it should have always been.  
  
As Sam continued talking about his life with Nick and everything that had gone wrong, how everything just seemed to completely change overnight, how he had no money for school since Nick decided he wasn’t going to pay. The times he had to spend in the emergency room getting a bone set or having a shoulder popped back into place. How his anguish and pain seemed to turn Nick on.  
  
And how he had finally realized a year ago that he really didn’t deserve the shitty life that he had and that the money in Nick’s safe could very likely buy him a new one.  
  
“Whoa, whoa, wait,” Dean suddenly stood away from the wall and held up his hands. “You planned this. An extra year of — what he did to you, all so that you could get the money out of his safe?”  
  
“It took time to plan it. I put a lot into this. I mean some stuff didn’t go exactly as I hoped it would go, I wasn’t planning on that camera near the safe, but everything else seemed to go —”  
  
“Dude, if I hadn’t shown up at the exact time that I did, you’d be taking a dirt nap and Nick would be building a gazebo over your body.”  
  
“But you did, and I’m not. And we have a lot of money, Dean. We can do anything. The things we dreamed of doing, the plans we made as kids — we can do all of that now.”  
  
“And you think Nick’s not going to report this? Or that he won’t track you down and kill you to get his money back?”  
  
“He’s not going to the police. The money isn’t exactly legal. As for him tracking me down, I’ve taken care of that too. Fake ID’s, credit cards, birth certificates. Everything I need to get anything anywhere.”  
  
“Uh, you forgot one little thing, Sammy,” Dean sat on the edge of his bed across from Sam. “He knows where I live. And Austin is big, but not big enough to keep where I work hidden for very long. And I like where I work. Two years, head chef. I’ve even been on the news a few times.”  
  
Sam blinked a few times at Dean, it had occurred to him, but it hadn’t occurred to him that Dean would want to go back to Austin. They were in this together now, right? The confusion at Dean’s stance must have shown on Sam’s face.  
  
“I just assumed you’d be coming home with me, I didn’t expect after everything that there’d be this,” He tossed the stack of bills he’d had on the table back to Sam, his voice lifting a few octaves. “Complicating everything.”  
  
“What do you want me to do? Mail it back to him with a note? ‘Sorry I took your money, Nick, but here ya go. Please don’t come looking for me now,’. I don’t think that’s gonna work.”  
  
“No, but you should have thought a little more, Sam. Considered me, at least. I might have to give up my life, my career, my home — everything I built, because of this. I don’t mind protecting you, supporting you — whatever you need, but this,” Dean sighed and ran his hand over his face. “I have to think. This is all… I have to think.”  
  
Sam couldn’t do anything but sit there silently and look at his feet. He hadn’t thought this through as well as he had planned, he had never thought that Dean wouldn’t want to go hiding with him. Maybe he should just go back, take his brother out of Nick’s crosshairs. But he said nothing. After a few minutes of silence, Dean picked up the keys to his Impala from the table.  
  
“There’s a diner up the road. I’m gonna go pick us up some grub and we can finish this conversation after we eat,” He pointed to Sam as he opened the door. “Burger good or —?”  
  
“Burger’s good.”  
  
The door closed and Sam heard the familiar roar of the Impala starting up. He hadn’t meant to drag Dean down or into his mess like this, and he wasn’t going to stay around and keep doing it or force Dean to make a decision he didn’t have to. He’d fix it. Nick just needed to scent Sam in another place, one that was away from Dean and that might be enough to keep him off.  
  
 He grabbed his box and stuffed it back into the duffel bag that Dean had brought in for him, leaving the three stacks of cash that had been handed back to him on the bed. There had to be a bus or something — maybe someone would take pity on the guy who winced every time he breathed and give him a ride to a station. All he knew was that he had to hurry and disappear. After he looked out the window to make sure that his brother was gone, Sam walked away from the room and quietly back out of Dean’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This kind of answered some of the questions people might have about Sam and Nick and gave a little background. But, where is Sam going from there? Will he even get a ride in the shape he's in?
> 
> Let me know if you're enjoying it so far and I'm definitely open to hearing ideas and questions. Thanks guys for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

 

 _I dare you to move_  
_I dare you to move_  
 _I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor_  
 _I dare you to move_  
 _I dare you to move_

Switchfoot - Dare You To Move

 

“Hello, Dean.” Cas picked up the cell phone after the first ring. It was a little hard to hide the smile in his voice. They had known each other for a few years and had become very good friends over that time. Flirting a little here and there, and Cas had flown in and visited him a few times, but they had mutually never crossed the friendship line.

“Heya, Cas. I got your picture and the texts,” Dean could hear the noise that surrounded him, indicating a busy night, most likely one filled with tourists getting drunk at the bar and trying the Cajun cuisine on the menu. He loved any excuse to talk to Cas though and knew he wouldn’t have answered the call if he was too busy, but this one was not so much an excuse as it was a legitimate reason. “Yeah, that’s definitely him. The Sam Campbell part isn’t a total lie since it’s our mom’s maiden name, but — yeah, that’s Sammy. Where did you see him?”

“He actually works for me. Well, he works at my restaurant, tending the bar on weeknights. He has for several months according to Charlie. She hired him on while Gabriel and I were in New Hampshire.”

Sam and Dean had parted ways five months ago in North Carolina and he hadn’t laid eyes on his brother since then. He’d put the word out with his scattered group of friends that he was looking for baby bro and hadn’t gotten any word from anyone until now.

“That’s a big freakin’ coincidence, man,” Dean’s voice changed pitch as he butchered the Bogart almost quote. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, he walked into yours.”

Cas snorted. “You know, I used to like that movie, Dean but your quote has killed it for me.”

“What? Did I say it wrong?”

“No, not really. But your Bogart is horrible.”

Dean laughed at Cas as he finally opened his rear car door and grabbed up the two paper bags of groceries that he’d bought on the way home and started down the sidewalk to his apartment.

“One day I’ll rent it and we can watch it together.”

“Oh? A phone date? Are you asking me out, Dean? Are we ready for that big of a jump in our relationship?”

“Now that you mention it, I think we should stick strictly to emails. I can’t trust you to preserve my modesty, angel.”

“Honestly, I don’t think you can either. I’ve been itching to see you in those motorcycle boots that I got you for Christmas. With no socks.”

“That’s very scandalous of you, Cas. How dare you try to objectify me and my ankles.”

“I know. I’m bad. I go to all the meetings like I’m supposed to, but I keep backsliding. I might as well just go ahead and take your brother up on that drink he wants to buy me.”

The light teasing lilt left Dean’s voice and was replaced with something that sounded a little too serious for one of their phone calls. Did Sammy really ask Cas out or was Cas just screwing with him?

“You talked to him, Cas? Did you mention me or anything because that might make him run again if he thinks I’m onto him.”

“Really?” Cas was incredulous and offended and amused and he sounded that way. Sam hadn’t actually invited him out for a drink, he had offered to make one for him — he was the bartender, after all. “I’m not stupid, Dean, I didn’t mention you at all. But I do tend to speak to my employees from time to time.”

Dean grinned at the huff Cas gave but didn’t remark on it. “Okay, sorry dude. Just checking. Sammy’s been in the wind a while and this is the first sign of him that I’ve had of him in months.”

“You’re… forgiven, I suppose. Hold on a second,” Cas gave a pause and suddenly the noises of the crowded room faded slowly until they were gone, like he was leaving the restaurant and going into his office. “So, are you coming to New Orleans, or should I have Sam boxed up and shipped to Austin?”

Dean made a thinking noise on the other end of the line. Of course he was going to come, even if he could only come for a few days he wanted to see Sam, he needed to at least let him know that he wasn’t mad at him, that all he wanted was to make sure he was safe. But teasing Cas was so much fun.

“I don’t know. I was thinking maybe you could keep an eye on him for me. But, I’ve also never been to New Orleans, and I’ve never seen that restaurant of yours,” Dean paused, waiting for Cas to reply but when there was silence on the other end of the line he rolled his eyes and went on. “I’m going to put in for a couple of days off and head that way, I suppose. Still got that spare room you always offer up?”

“I’ll call your manager when we get off the phone and take care of it. Since you’re coming over here, you, Mr. Winchester, are officially being romanced by The Little Easy, so consider this a business trip as well. And yes, the room is yours when you come. Just don’t tell anyone there that you’re staying with the big boss.”

“You know that I won’t accept your offer, but I will very much enjoy my everything being comped by your restaurant while I pretend to contemplate your offer and yell at my stupid brother,” Dean chuckled. “Please, everyone here already knows that you want to take a ride on the Dean Machine, but if you want to pretend they don’t…”

“You’re disgusting and uncouth and I’ve decided we can’t be friends anymore. I can’t believe I’m still going to put together a very, very good proposal for you.”

“Because you adore me, Cas. You know you do.”

“Shut up. Do you want us to fly you in, or are you still opposed to airplanes?”

“Think I’ll drive. Baby likes road-trips.”

 

* * *

 

 

Being well versed in the art of tending bar was something that came almost second nature to Sam. While when he had first started here, the Bourbon Street ‘signature’ drinks — the Hurricane and the Hand Grenade — had been foreign to him, he had picked up how to successfully make them in a couple of hours, and by the end of his first night, he had even managed to improve upon them.

He wasn’t broke, not by any means, but the tips he raked in from the drunken locals and tourists alike made his wallet very chubby and very happy. And tonight the guy sitting at the bar was tipping him a fifty dollar bill with every drink he gave him. The guy was hot and had amazing eyes, Sam wouldn’t mind getting a little piece of that later, but the dude had to be drunk the way he was feeding him cash.

Sam did have a moral or two stowed away, he wasn’t going to keep all of this money, but it was probably better that Sam was taking it and stashing it away from his normal tips until the dude left. And he showed no signs of doing that anytime soon.

Or actually any of being that drunk. Maybe he was as sober as sin but just wanted to look at Sam?

Sam didn’t mind that either.

“Excuse me, Moe,” the guy called, lifting his glass and shaking it to show that it was empty. He was all smiles and Sam couldn’t help but smile back at him, thusly destroying the guise of the unconcerned bartender he was trying to pretend to play.

“Moe? Really?”

“I’m running out of other bartender names, okay? I used barkeep, bartend, intoxicologist and my vocabulary is limited, so it was either that or spiritual advisor.” He popped a peanut from the bowl next to him into his mouth. “And I’m saving beer god and bar temptress for later when I’m drunk and trying harder get into your pants. It’s kinda sexy sounding, right?”

Sam, already filling a clean glass with a beer on tap, shook his head, laughing at this guy. He had totally called it though, the big tips and the subtle flirting had been a warm-up; Sam would very likely have a bed buddy tonight.

He put down a napkin in front of his customer and placed the beer on top of it and pulled a face. “Isn’t a temptress commonly female?” He pointed to his name tag and leaned down on the bar in front of him. “Sam. You stand a better chance of getting laid tonight if you use my actual name and steer clear of everything else — especially Moe.”

“So no Moe, that’s what you’re saying. And temptress, that’s out too.” The pleasure clearly showed on his face, a near grin and a subtle lift of his eyebrows and he held out his hand. “Gabriel. Remember it, because you’ll be screaming it later.”

Sam had been in the midst of shaking Gabriel’s hand when that line came. His lips twitched and he bit down on his bottom one until he calmed down enough to fish this conversation. “Yeah, Gabriel? You’re awfully sure of yourself. I like that.” Sam leaned closer to him across the bar and nudged Gabriel’s glasses up from the tip of his nose. He had tons of horrible pick up lines too. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Like I like my men,” Gabriel said without missing a beat, using the same whispered tone that Sam had adopted. “Hot, salty and over easy.”

“You’re ridiculous,” His laughter couldn’t be contained this time, and Sam stood straighter and back from Gabriel as they both chuckled. “And I’m off at ten if you wanna hang around for another hour.”

“I see you met my cousin Gabriel,” Cas said, breezing into the bar out of seemingly nowhere, a clipboard in his hand as he ignored the both of them to check the tier of liquor bottles looking for the emptier ones.

“Cousin? You’re my boss’ cousin?” Sam looked at Cas then at Gabriel.

Cas turned. “He’s the boss, too. But —,” he started, trailing off when Gabriel made a cut-throat motion at him when Sam wasn’t looking.

“I’m the pretty one. Decoration. Cas here is the — big decision maker. I’m a silent investor.”

“Gabriel Novak. I should’ve put that together. I heard you came back to town when Castiel did, I just — wasn’t thinking.”

“Yeah, nothing’s different though. We can still — things. You know?”

The look Sam gave him was a mix of an apology and a soft rejection. He hoped that Gabriel gathered that from just his look, anyway. Besides, he had known Gabriel for a whole hour, maybe two, he shouldn’t have been ready to take him home. That really wasn’t how he normally operated, and now the guys who signed his paycheck probably thought he was a man slut.

He gathered up the small stack of cash Gabriel had tipped him and put it in front of him. “I was going to give that back later anyway. I wasn’t sure if you were just a functioning drunk or what, but I thought your money would be safer with me than if you just started handing everybody fifties. So —,” he slid it toward him. “There you go. And I’m gonna get started filling these up since we’re slow, so I can get out of here at ten.”

Cas was silent during their exchange and just nodded when Sam looked his way and removed a few bottles from their shelves and took them to the back. He didn’t really understand what he had walked into, but he definitely felt awkward.

“Cockblock,” Gabriel said when Sam was out of earshot. “That was a sure thing and you fucked it up. Thanks, Cassie, for always being there.”

“He’s an employee, Gabriel, and from what I’ve heard, a really good one. We don’t need to lose someone like that because you can’t keep it in your pants. You should be glad I came in when I did.”

“Oh yeah, Cas. Ecstatic. I couldn’t be more thrilled that I’ll be enjoying a cold shower tonight instead of that hot piece of ass.”

 

* * *

 

Two days after he had talked to Cas about Sam, Dean had left Austin and started the eight-hour drive to New Orleans. Eight hours wasn’t that much, Dean could drive that with his eyes closed and a hand tied behind his back, but he’d decided to take the more scenic route and enjoy the views he’d never seen. There wasn’t a rush to get to New Orleans, Cas had sent him a text him last night with the address that Sam had on file, bitching about violating privacy laws, but Dean had decided to catch him at work, where he was less likely to run right away. So he had plenty of time.

He didn’t let anyone know when he’d arrived. Instead, he parked his car in some paid parking garage and walked, taking in the sights and sounds and smells of New Orleans. He walked past Cas’ restaurant twice but went in neither time. The smell that was coming from inside as they served their lunchtime diners was both familiar and heavenly. The restaurant Cas owned in Texas was vastly different from this one, from the waitstaff uniforms to the smell of the simmering gumbo and the roux that smelled delightfully like popcorn to him, and he wondered briefly if the kitchen layouts would be the same.

The ringing of his phone pulled him out of his thoughts, and pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at the number. He didn’t recognize it, but that didn’t mean anything. People were getting new numbers all the time. He pressed the accept call button.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, Dean.”

“Sammy?”

“I see you outside. How’d you find me?”

Dean scanned the interior of the place but he couldn’t see his brother anywhere. Was he hiding? He shaded his eyes and pressed closer to the glass window, looking around again for Sam and not finding him.

“Why don’t I come in and we’ll talk?”

“Yeah, come on in. I’ll meet you at the bar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very small intro to Sam and Gabe, but this was mainly a Dean and Cas-centric chapter. Mardi Gras is happening in two weeks in the story and there is craziness planned, so keep an eye out for that!
> 
> Moe = the bartender from The Simpson's, if anyone wondered.
> 
> Kudos/comment if you like or just want to say hi!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggery for talk of domestic abuse and non-con (that didn't happen).

 

_Hold_   
_Hold on_   
_Hold on to me_   
_'Cause I'm a little unsteady_   
_A little unsteady_

The Ambassadors - Unsteady

 

At first, his being in New Orleans, in the French Quarter, could have been a huge coincidence. Mardi Gras was next week and people were coming at random times from random places to be in town for Fat Tuesday or for a few of the other, less wild, days before. When Dean had passed the restaurant the first time but had kept going, Sam thought that yeah, maybe this _was_ a coincidence and he hadn’t come there for him at all. But to be safe he had tailed him for another little while, following him down the side streets, into the big cathedral, watching the artists that lined the sidewalk beyond, even stopping to try a beignet and some chicory coffee from the famous Cafe DuMonde near the French Market. But it was the second time that Dean had walked by the restaurant, the time he had stopped and peered through the open doors and the windows with much more interest than was just passing, that Sam knew, and that was when he had made the call.

It was still early in the evening and his shift didn’t start for a few more hours, but Sam had been out running some errands, like picking up his laundered clothes and cashing his paycheck, when he had spotted Dean. He couldn’t drop the clothes off at home, so they had come with him on his bike for the rest of the day. Fortunately, some of the things he had folded and cleaned included his work uniform, so he could just put the rest away until his shift was over. Unless things with Dean went bad and he had to leave before his shift even started. He didn’t see why they would. He hoped they wouldn’t.

There was a staff entrance behind a gate that Sam used, he had gone around his brother and to the other side of the building, parked his bike in its usual spot and rushed to beat him inside. He thought twice about the pretense and wondered what in the hell he was doing it for, and decided to meet Dean as he approached the bar.

“Sammy,” Dean greeted, smiling at him and pulling him into a full-bodied hug with both arms and hair touching and everything.

To say Sam was surprised by the action was putting it lightly. He had hoped that the reunion wouldn’t start off with harsh words or disappointed looks, but this sort of welcome was one he hadn’t expected and it was nice, so he hugged his brother back, slapping his back affectionately and not letting go until Dean did.

Damn, that was nice. It was funny how you missed things without realizing you missed them until you had them back.

Dean let him go but kept both hands on Sam’s shoulders and gave him a once over, his eyes falling to the tiny, tiny scar he had on his bottom lip.

“That from uh,” Dean was pointing to a spot under his own lips and trying to convey something to Sam without actually saying the words. “That?”

Dean was smooth.

“Yeah, but it’s - really small so it’s literally nothing. When I wear lipstick you can’t even see it anymore.”

Amused at the roll of Dean’s eyes, Sam pointed to one of the empty tables next to them and hit a chair for Dean as he passed it to take his own. As he sat down slowly, Sam was a little puzzled at Dean and why he was looking around them both and not just glancing, seeing where little brother was working, but really looking. But then, Dean was a chef, worked at a restaurant himself, so he was probably just comparing it to the one he worked for.

He really needed to ask Dean about that. It had been so long since they had had a real conversation that Sam felt almost like he didn’t know Dean anymore and that -- that couldn’t be a thing. That couldn’t be a thing anymore. He had never even tried his brother’s food. Sure, when he was growing up he’d eaten tons of it, but when it was becoming a honed skill and becoming a career, Sam had been so far away and so -- he had to try harder. That’s all there was to that.

Dean finally took the chair across from Sam and set his backpack on the floor next to him. He was quiet, possibly waiting for Sam to say something first or maybe just trying to find the right words. When did seeing Dean ever become awkward?

“You’re gonna ask me again how I found you,” Dean said.

“Well, it kinda does concern me a little bit,” Sam lowered his voice and moved his face a little bit closer to Dean. “You looking for me, probably having people look out for me. It doesn’t help me to hide from -- him. So yeah, those are tracks I’m gonna have to cover.”

“You should’ve cut your hair, or changed your occupation up, maybe used a different name Sam Cambell, than one that can readily be found on your freaking birth certificate,” Dean took on an almost conspiratorial whisper too as he spoke to Sam. “Why’d you leave? You drop -- all those secrets on me, and then we had the risk of your crazy ex tracking you down through me, and I was still willing to -- wanted to help you. And you just up and left. I came back to the motel room and my seriously injured little brother has just taken his shit, left me a pile of ill-begotten cash and the rest of his shit in my car and vanished. What the fuck, Sam?”

“I thought about going back to the motel and picking up the rest of my stuff from your car, but I figured that I wouldn’t be able to sneak that one by you. You were either already gone and looking for me, or you were sitting in the window and drinking a beer, waiting for me to come back. The stuff isn’t really important to me. You could’ve either taken it with you or dumped it in a dumpster on your way out of town,” he shrugged. “I didn’t want to bring Nick down on you. I knew that once he saw that we weren’t together in Austin, he’d go away and leave you alone, and clearly, I was right. He hasn’t bugged you has he?”

Dean didn’t answer him, but leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “So you’ve been where these -- what’s it been, like five months? Here or traveling or what?”

“I stole a car that first night I left, a real piece of crap, broke down in Knoxville so I had to ditch that and I stayed around the area for a while. Mostly living in motels, using the fake I.D’s I had, and then to make things interesting, I backtracked to Kentucky, then hit Chicago. Detroit, which was awesome, by the way, I almost stayed there. I did buy a car though. Cash. Used Grandad’s information to register it. I thought it was common enough of a name to use so -- after no one gave me shit about it, I just kept it.”

“I pegged you as going through Atlanta and then straight down to Florida. Maybe even get a passport and get out of the country from there. I mean, you had the cash, why stay?”

“I wanted to be close to you. I would have left the country if you wanted us to, but when I left Connecticut with you, I was ready to go back home with you. I didn’t think of it from any other perspective. I didn’t take him looking for you into account. I -- wanted out, and I wanted him to pay. Thought I had all my bases covered but, apparently I didn’t even consider you or what you have going at all.”

“No, you didn’t. But you know that didn’t mean I was turning my back on you. I was looking forward to having you back around again. Being big brother, taking care of little Sammykins.”

It was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes. “I would’ve just brought you down. You had all these good intentions and shit, and I would have come in and wrecked your life. Nick doesn’t play fair, dude. He would have done -- will do -- anything to find me. I don’t want to put you through that.”

“Appreciate you being all noble, a little late in the game but still, I can take care of myself,” Dean leaned down to his backpack and rummaged around some file folders in it until he found the one he was looking for, and tossed it onto the table at Sam. “Nick’s missing.”

“...what? He’s _missing_?” Sam was clearly visibly upset. “Did -- actually missing or in a hole in his backyard missing?”

“C’mon Sam. I’m not the mafia. He’s just missing. Gone on an extended vacation or something. Maybe nothing to worry about, but -- probably not. Just take a look at the folder.”

Concern crossed Sam’s face as he flipped the folder open. Dean apparently had friends everywhere, and this one was on the Bridgeport PD and not just some hired man. He’d been keeping tabs on Nick, watching his every move for months, and in January, right after the New Year, Nick had just vanished. There was no forwarding address, no activity in his nearly empty bank accounts, and no emails to anyone saying where he might have gone. Just a resignation letter to the University he had worked at, saying he was finally fulfilling his lifelong dream of traveling. That was it. No itinerary, his car was gone, and he was gone. That was it. Sam shuddered.

“Oh my God.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s looking for you, Sam, but you need to stay on your toes. Chances are he cut his losses and left. He might not even be in the US. A friend in Buffalo did say that he thought he had seen him there. He could be in Canada for all we know. Maybe he’s grieving for the relationship he lost.”

“He’s not. He’s pissed about what happened, that’s a given, but he doesn’t miss anything about me. I think in the end he just liked having someone he could control and manipulate, sex when he wanted it. Not an actual boyfriend.”

“I know you’re not some weak little guy, Sam. The stuff dad taught us when we were growing up… and I know you kickbox. A little. You had that DVD. Why did you take it?”

“Wanted to. I told you, I had a plan, and fighting back would have screwed everything up. And honestly, once it happens to you over and over again, you get in this mindset: it’s scary and it hurts, but I do deserve it. Maybe he’s right about me.”

“Nobody deserves it.”

“Yeah, I know. Can we not -- not while I’m at work. I’m pretty much over it anyway.”

Silence sat heavily between them for a few minutes as Sam skimmed every one of the pages in the folder, he came to the photos of Nick taken from a distance, stared at them, and then closed the folder quickly and drew his hands away as though it had tried to bite him.

“Who do you know in Buffalo?”

“Bobby’s friend. Frank.”

“Frank... Deveraux? That computer guy? Last I heard he was in Illinois.”

“Uh… he’s a little more than just a computer guy.”

“Yeah, he’s more like an ‘I saw your guy in a spaceship drawing crop circles in the cornfield’ kind of guy.”

Dean scrubbed his hand over his face and shook his head. Sam was covering his worry with being a smart ass. Typical. “He’s into some weird conspiracy theories, yes, but the guy’s information has always been good. Those ID’s you’re using were probably made by him, and you know those things are as good as an official government document.”

Sam wasn’t going to admit to anything. There was absolutely no need to tell Dean that he might have called Frank a couple of years ago when he knew he had to leave Nick at some point and had bought a few birth certificates and social security cards off of him. The identification he had in Louisiana was a legal one, thanks to that. So, he was good at what he did, it didn’t mean that Frank wasn’t a few fries short of a Happy Meal.

“Dean, Bobby is a bounty hunter, Dad was a bounty hunter, Mom was a bounty hunter -- but you? Not so much. You don’t need shady people with shady information.”

“Your ass is safe right now because I kept in touch with those people. So shut it.”

“Satan’s been loosed on the world, I don’t see how I or my ass is safe.”

Dean had never heard Sam refer to his ex-boyfriend as Satan or hint that there were things - forced on his ass and it had Dean seeing red. “Was he that bad, Sam? Did he -- I should have killed him that night. I hope he comes for us so I can put a bullet between his fucking eyes.”

There was no time to respond to Dean in any way, not even a look or a shake of his head, as Sam made eye contact with the man who just walked in and breezed past the table.

“Coffee, Campbell. And you aren’t in uniform..”

“Not on the clock, Mr. Ketch,” Sam raised his brows and thinned his lips at Dean, who was still seething. The tall, British guy who sat facing them at another table, unfolded a newspaper like it was eight in the morning and he was waiting for his breakfast and not almost nightfall. Sam pushed the folder back at Dean and whispered. “We’ll pick this up later, okay, Dean? Be cool. What you’re assuming never happened. Not once.”

“If you aren’t working or paying to utilize the restaurant as you clearly aren’t Sam, why are you here? There are countless places scattered around the French Quarter where you can entertain your company.”

“There are a million places you can get your evening coffee, too, Arthur, but for some stalkery reason here you are, bothering our employees,” Gabriel came up, nearly tailing Arthur, and winked at Sam as he slid behind the bar to select a bottle of whiskey from the shelf. “Heya, kiddo. Been pretty boring without you working this weekend. You gracing us tonight?”

Sam completely ignored Gabriel, or he appeared to. He had already taken note of the casual clothes and how nice - and tight - the black on black jeans and button down he wore looked amazing on him. And the glasses -- nice touch. He looked like one of those professors that sat on his desk to teach and hung out with the students at the local coffee shop. It was hot, and Sam was realizing that he clearly had a type. Wasn’t that what had attracted him to Nick in the first place, the whole ‘cool’ teacher thing? He looked away though, and he noticed Dean noticing.

Eyes still on Sam, Gabriel drained the drink he had poured for himself and went to pour another but stopped himself short as he caught sight of Dean’s familiar face. Dean was clearly, to Sam, trying not to be noticed, but Gabriel was already swooping to the other side of the bar, and Mr. Ketch had already lowered his newspaper to look at him.

“Dean-o!”

“Hey, Gabe,” Dean stood with a grin and greeted the other man with a brief, one armed hug.

“We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow,” Gabriel patted his back one more time before he let him go and folded his arms at his chest. “You should have called, I’m not sure we have anything ready for you.”

That definitely caught Sam’s attention and piqued his interest. Obviously, Dean knew Gabriel. That was the clearest thing he had seen all day, what he didn’t know was how, or if Dean hadn’t come here solely for him, what was the other reason? He watched the pair interact and from what they were saying to each other, Sam still had no real idea. They were talking about the weather in Texas and Mardi Gras week in New Orleans, but how they knew each other and what Gabriel didn’t have ready still wasn’t clear.

“So, how do you know our sweet little Sam?” Gabriel had at some point moved closer to Sam, and without an invitation was sitting down at their table, joining them.

“Sammy’s my little brother,” Dean said simply, taking his own chair and smiling knowingly over at Sam, who returned the look with ten thousand unspoken questions in his eyes, which Dean happily ignored for the moment. “We’ve been out of touch for a few months though, so I was happily surprised to find him working here.”

“That’s a hell of a surprise,” Gabriel said, and Sam chanced looking at him to see his eyes fixed on his face. “Sam’s been an _excellent_ worker so far, and if he’s anything like big brother we’re going to be lucky to have the set.”

“That’s nice of you to say, Mr. Novak, but you’ve only seen me for a few hours on one shift. You seem like you know Dean pretty well though, it’s weird that he didn’t mention that.”

Gabriel looked like he was eating the ‘Mr. Novak’ shit up and Dean, Dean the unhelpful, just sat there watching them, his eyes glittering with mirth and unspent laughter. Sam looked like he either wanted to slug Gabriel or tip his chair backward and let him flounder on the floor, and there had to be a reason for that kind of hostility. Dean didn’t look like he was going to say a word until he found out exactly what it was.

“You made one hell of a first impression, kid, what can I say,” Gabriel chuckled at the look that Sam turned on him. “So cute when you’re pissy. I’ll have to remember that.”

“So, Gabe,” Dean interrupted, finally having decided to pipe up and stop watching. “That wife of yours -- what’s her name? Rhonda? What’s she up to?”

“Rowena,” Gabriel looked exasperated as he unwrapped a tiny sucker - a Dum-Dum incidentally- from his breast pocket and dropped it into his glass of whiskey, causing Sam and Dean to make similar ‘ew’ faces, which he laughed at as he swirled it around in the liquid.

“ _Ex_ -wife. Just signed the papers two weeks ago. I imagine she’s in New York somewhere spending the settlement she wrung out of me shopping with that -- fetus of a boy toy she has. I’m freshly divorced, almost broke and very, _very_ vulnerable.”

Sam snorted at that and the flirty grin that Gabriel turned on him was hard to miss.  
For the first time, he made direct eye contact with Gabriel and nearly forgot where he was and what he was doing until Dean cleared his throat and broke the silence.

“I’d offer my condolences but it doesn’t look like its sympathy that you want.”  
Gabriel looked like he was going to say something but Sam stood up and stopped him short when he announced that he was going to change into his uniform and get ready to start his shift.

“We’ll catch up later, Dean, after you do whatever it is you came here to do. Come back at two, I’m off then,” Sam passed Arthur, who held up his hand and opened his mouth. “I’ll put on some coffee after I change, Mr. Ketch.”

Dean wasn’t giving his full attention to Sam anymore, he was turned around in his chair and watching as Cas walked into the room. He slowly stood and took a step his way but very abruptly Arthur passed by him and caught Castiel, kissed his cheek and grabbed his hand to lead him toward the table he had just vacated.

Staking his claim.

Cas did stop where Dean was, however, and pulled his hand away from Arthur as he folded Dean into a hug, a hug that lasted a few seconds beyond what could be construed as just friendly. Sam was interested at first, to see what was going on between his boss and his brother, but after a few minutes of introductions and pleasantries, he went into the back to his locker to change his clothes. When he came back, the room was nearly empty, except for Gabriel who had settled himself on a stool and looked like he would be there for the rest of the night.

“Where did everybody go? I didn’t even get to tell Dean which hotel I’m in or give him my key.”

“He’s staying with Cas, so he’s good on the room. I’m sure they decided to do that because it’s Mardi Gras time and the hotels here are booked up with tourists. Dean said he’ll be back after he cleans up and gets some rest.”

Sam simply nodded and left the bar, leaving Benny and Charlie alone to finish their shift and handle the group of customers that were starting to trickle into the bar. The rest of the night was busy and Sam barely had five minutes in the first few hours to take a bathroom break, but his tips were really, really good. He had pointedly ignored - politely ignored - Gabriel for a long time, refusing even to spare him a glance beyond getting him a new drink. But he had left after an hour or so and had just returned when the customer flow had started to slow down. This time he had sat closer to where the other bartender, Pamela, was standing. At the first lull of the night, two hours from close, he took a few minutes and refreshed Gabriel’s drink and slid a new bowl of nuts at him.

“You should let me take you out tomorrow before your shift.”

Sam looked over at Gabriel in surprise.

“Yeah, we got off on the wrong foot,” Gabriel continued. “Really wrong foot. I wasn’t going to leave here with you without actually telling you who I was, but we were having fun with the cheesy pickup lines and then along came Cassie before I had a chance to make the big reveal.”

“Really,” Sam said. He sounded skeptical… like he didn’t exactly believe Gabriel. It wasn’t like Gabriel owed him anything or he had to explain himself, Sam hadn’t expected that he would, so maybe he was being sincere? “What do you mean by out? Like… a date thing or do you want to take me out and get me to wash your car or something?”

“Out. As friends, at first. See how it goes. Get some lunch and a few drinks. Maybe we can walk around the city and I can give you a tour. Show our tits for beads. The norm.”

“As friends.”

“At first. You might decide you don’t like my tits and ditch me for someone with bigger beads.”

Sam hung his head as he tried to hide his grin. “Um, I can’t tomorrow. Dean and all that. We haven’t seen each other in a while and we’ve got some catching up to do. So maybe… maybe Wednesday?”

“Dean has a meeting with Cas tomorrow afternoon. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say big brother won’t be available for a while.”

“Why are Dean and the other Mr. Novak meeting anyway? I gathered that you all know each other, but I can’t quite figure out how.”

“Ah, yeah you wouldn’t know about that would you?” Gabriel picked up a handful of the honey roasted nuts and began popping them one by one into his mouth as he watched Sam wipe down the bar. “Your brother is a chef at one of the restaurants we own in Austin and Cas has been trying to get him and his five-star cooking here to work at this restaurant. Dean excels in seafood and gumbo, but I hear everything else he makes is really good too. But anyway, Cas has a great offer for him we put together and he’s going to present it to him tomorrow.”

“So, Dean is going to work here? Might work here. He is kind of stuck on Austin, it’s going to take something really great to get him to uproot himself and move here.”

“I can’t say what our offer is exactly, but it’s one that I doubt he can refuse. And then there’s the whole Cas lives here too thing to consider. I’d say our chances are pretty good.”

“Isn’t Mr. Novak - Cas - dating Ketch?”

Gabriel shrugged but never answered or said anymore about them, which just made Sam want to know more. “So… us. Lunch tomorrow?”

“Yeah, okay. Lunch. Providing Dean is busy in the afternoon. I haven’t seen much of the place so… okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to say hi!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was a fun and exciting read for those of you who have come this far. It's kind of a slow burn so be patient with the plot. There's a twist as well eventually, so I hope you'll stay for that.  
> I'd love to hear your thoughts on this, and kudos make my day!


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